Of Mice and Men

One

You met at a bar, which in itself is pretty surprising because bars aren't your scene. Maybe you drink, maybe you don't. It all depends on the moment and your emotions. You're there to meet up with some friends or maybe coworkers. You don't remember. Everything before him is a bit of a blur, to be completely honest.

He was with some buddies of his, standing off in the corner playing some game. They were rowdy and loud, which was to be expected. The bar isn't the type of place where you'd sit down quietly and discuss things. You go to laugh, and drink and have a good time. Sometimes the place would have some guy in the corner with a guitar, singing along to old songs, though tonight they stuck with the jukebox and radio.

You were waiting for your drink, leaning against the bar as you listened to some old country song. It was the type of song that everybody knew even if you didn't actively listen to it. You weren't singing along because you didn't sing in public, but you hummed to the chorus when your drink finally came.

You thanked the bartender, wrapping your hand around your glass though just as you turned to go back to your table, it was knocked out of your hand by a passing bar-goer. He stumbled into you, staggering back at the glass crashed to the ground. Liquor, ice, and glass scattered all along the floor.

There was a moment of silence that was filled with shock and annoyances you looked up to face the man who slammed into your arm. He looked just as surprised as you were, with a tad bit of remorse added to it.

"Christ. I am so sorry." He muttered, going back and forth between looking between you and the mess on the floor.

"It's all right," You say, even though it wasn't.

"I wasn't looking where I was going." He mentions even though it was obvious. "I'll get you a new one."

You shake your head because you don't want to be a bother, but the guy is already heading to the bar. He slaps his hand onto it repeatedly to get the attention of the bartender and then looks back at you. You rattle off your drink of choice, choosing to just let the guy buy you another one.

You watch as a worker cleans up your mess and apologize to them even if it wasn't your fault. You don't like to cause trouble for anybody, though they wave you off like it's no big deal. And it wasn't. No use in crying over spilled alcohol, right?

You turn your head back to watch the bartender make your drink, checking to make sure nothing was slipped inside of it. The dark world we live in, but what can you do?

The guy smiles triumphantly as he holds up your drink, giving a dramatic display as he offers it to you. "My lady,"

"You're sweet," You speak, taking the glass up from his large hands, bringing it to your lips for a slow sip. It's sweet and bitter all at the same time.

You stand there, teetering between the bar and the tables until the shout of your name gathers your attention. You look back, suddenly remembering who you were with. You thank him once more, turning on your heel so you could return to your table.

You sit down and try to enjoy the night, chattering with your small group of people who arrived for the small hangout. Now and then you catch the guy glancing your way. You can contently say he doesn't spend the night staring at you as he is busy with his group of friends, but your eyes lock a time or two.

You didn't think anything of it, especially as the bar began to fill up and the sound of the music playing over the radio and the endless conversation is too just for you. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, shuffling through the crowd. There were other bars in your area, but you guessed this one had the most atmosphere. Or maybe it was close and people were lazy. Who knew.